Deadly Desire
by KrazyKat001
Summary: We all know how Pitch Black turns out. Ship crashed, people stranded, people died. What if the captain of the Hunter Grazner played a darker role, dooming everyone to their fate? And what if there was another addition on board? Like Riddick, it's a caged animal. A caged animal rumored to be extinct. The Company plays a deeper role in this tale. Another OC story, NOT Riddick X OC .
1. Author's Note

Deadly Desire

KrazyKat001

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Chronicles of Riddick franchise or any of its characters. I do not profit from making this story. Rico is my original character, therefore is mine._

Author's Note:

I read many Riddick fanfictions and, while many of them are an incredible read, there were times when I wished Riddick **stayed** in character. But, even so, Riddick is a hard man to figure out.

I like reading Riddick stories paired with an original female character and sky's the limit. I like the ideas of fan girls falling into the films containing Riddick. I like ideas of original female characters that are innocent and have never shed blood in their lives but they manage to have an intimate relationship with Riddick. I also like ideas that an original female character have a criminal background - this causes a much more realistic relationship with Riddick.

However, I have own arguments about Riddick.

To be honest, I have never recall Riddick wanting (or desire) a woman, a mate or pack. He may have had a little "fun" once in awhile. Then the unrealistic scenarios comes in: the biting mark, or rather the mating mark, which one person (such as Riddick) bites another person on the neck to declare everyone that this is **his** mate and they should back off. Somehow, this doesn't sit well with me.

Sure, there are many different possibilities when it comes to exploring or defining Riddick's animal side but was it a necessity to include vampirism? To take advantage of vampirism and using it as a tool to tell the others to "back off" of his woman/mate? I can see love bites happening but for someone biting hard on the shoulder enough to draw blood? Wouldn't that be considering a nuisance? The rich copper blood can attract predators of the night or be tracked by mercenaries. Then there is risk of skin infection, which involves a hunt for painkillers and shivs (handmade prison knives)– one for the pain and one for cutting the rotting skin away, which leads to more blood loss. Including the fact that the loss of blood can increase dehydration, which leads to a hunt for water then a hunt for food to gain iron supply in the body since it is more or less likely that the woman/mate lost a liter of blood. Plus, Riddick and his woman/mate are being hunted down whether it's xenomorphs or mercenaries, and having to hunt down all of these items would definitely be considered a nuisance. For me, the mating mark is bloody unlikely.

Let's have a healthy reminder: Riddick is man of few words. Anyone who played the videogames (Escape from Butcher Bay and Assault on Dark Athena) or saw the films (Slam City, Pitch Black, Dark Fury, Chronicles of Riddick, and Rule the Dark) would know that Riddick rarely holds a conversation more than a few minutes.

Riddick does have a soft spot for animals and children but they will not always be considered his top priority when being hunted down. Either they slow him down or they get in the way. Remember Pitch Black, Dark Fury and Assault on Dark Athena? Riddick can put children out of harm's way but once the threat is over, he leaves them behind.

After reading through my arguments (and you don't have to agree with me), I wanted to point out my boundaries. There will be no mating marks. I will do my best to keep Riddick in character and he will undergo a character development throughout the story. There will be an original female/male character. I cannot promise you that there will be an intimate or romantic relationship between Riddick and OC but I can tell you that there will be some kind of relationship. Friendship. Comrade-ship. Whatever.

This is my first Riddick story.


	2. Prologue

**Deadly Desire**

By: KrazyKat001

**Prologue**

_Year: 2578_

_Hunter Grazner_ developed a long reputation for transporting goods and civilians in the ghost lane. No mercenaries, no pirates, no fuckin' high authorities meaning no risk of being hijacked. And there is no danger involved. _Perfect._

Tom Mitchell, captain of the _Hunter Grazner,_ glance over his data pad. He typed down the list of civilians being boarded his ship. He peer over thirty-eight names on the list and marking more names as more civilians enter the _Hunter Grazner_.

A young couple walks side-by-side, holding hands. The laughter of young love. He labeled them as the married settlers venturing a honeymoon vacation long way from home. Then there was a young boy, barely entering in his teens. _A runaway, perhaps._ But then, the kid paid him a moderate number of credits to keep quiet. If the captain received a news reward concerning this kid, there would be no hesitation involved once he turn the boy in to the authorities. No one wants to look after a kid. As long the boy can look after himself, the captain finds no reason to turn him away. Not since he was already paid for his silence. Then there is an antique dealer, Paris Ogilvie, wearing those of French prosperity. The captain snorts at the sight of this man. _If he was attempting to look high class, then why bother taking the ghost lane._ He lists him as 'the high-class wanna-be' along with the list of his archeological goods from Old Earth. _Ah, the good Old Earth..._ He remembers fondly of the tales of Old Earth but now the planet lies in ruins. The atmosphere can no longer hold rich oxygen for humans. The Company paid him a hefty load of credits to ensure the safety of these civilians.

The aging captain creases his brow, frowning at the data pad. He watches from the corner of his weary eye as the law enforcement officer, holding a gun behind a built man wearing a blindfold, bit and chains. The captive seems rather comfortable despite being in chains. The man in blue uniform is in the prime-of-life, had a badge on display to indicate that he is some kind of cop. Johns, as he was informed, wanted this criminal sociopath, Riddick, in an isolated cryo-chamber during the entire journey. The only words he heard from Johns, never leaving his sight from the said criminal. _Dangerous. An escaped convict. Killer. Wouldn't hesitate to kill again._ A migraine begins to ache; he waves hastily, "Fine, fine. As long you pay for the trip, I'll have Fry show you where the cryo-tube is." Johns giving him a plastic card, containing three thousand credits worth. Satisfied, he bellowed, "FRY!"

"_What?!_" The co-pilot was in the middle of showing the civilians how to strap themselves into the cryo-tubes. She emerged from the doors, irritated.

The captain cocks his head at the two men. "Show them to their cryo-tubes. Give this animal—" He jabbed his finger at Riddick, "his 'special' treatment." The co-pilot raises her brow. They rarely get a convict on their ship. "Righty-o. This way, gentlemen," Fry lead them inside the ship.

The captain of _Hunter Grazner_ frowns after them. Johns and the convict were an unexpected development, sure, but that wasn't what made him frown. He glanced back to the data pad again; staring at the sudden memo that appeared just before the two men came up. It was from the Company again. This time, it reveals a timed clock ticking the seconds away instead of a message.

**12 minutes remaining…**

The captain was told a full disclosure for this unusual delivery purpose. The Company look after the well-beings of their people, humans scattered across the universe. It was good business and all. But the Company has its dark side and this delivery was a part of it.

**10 minutes remaining…**

The Company's corrupted. The whole fuckin' system is corrupted. People who were "protected" by the Company were living a life to near slavery. Security measures amounts to murdering or torture. The Company hires mercenaries to rid the problems of the human population. Problems that causes a hindrance to the human race. Whether people are making an uprising against the system, or stealing food to stave off hunger, _mercs_ takes care of the problem. _Mercenaries_, not police, "take care" of these problems. Ever wonder why there were few law enforcement officers? Real police with real morality to tell from rights and wrongs, uncorrupted from the system was a thing of a past. Or a rarity, take your pick.

Tom Mitchell had a sneaking suspicion that Johns was no cop, but, sure enough, that guy had military equipments. More likely he's a _merc_. But Johns was not his main concern, not in the least. Mercs were the norm in this day and age.

**8 minutes remaining…**

The captain has an unwavering loyalty to the Company but after learning its corruption, after learning its secrets, he begins to have doubts. It was too late to look back now. Oh, how he wished he could go back to his old life, to remain blissfully unaware of the whole reason behind his ghost lane business.

The list of names he jotted down earlier were civilians who wanted an "escape" from the Company's system but, once Tom send the list to the Company, the Company will track these people down by adding a bounty to each one of their heads. Using mercenaries to hunt these people down and spread the fear of other civilians into their fold so they can once more be their "willing" slaves.

He was getting too old for this shit.

**5 minutes remaining…**

If only the Company haven't reveal him its dark secret...

As if the universe has enough troubles with xenomorphs, murderers, and corrupted governments running about in the populated worlds. No need for one more. Thank god they haven't awaken … whatever 'it' is. As far as he knows, the person he was transporting was caged to an older model of cryo-tube. Who knows, this person may have been sleeping for years… decades even. Shouldn't cause any trouble.

Besides, what was so important about this person which made the Company taken personal interest in it? There were rumors that this person started it all. The Company, mercenaries, aliens. Of course, they were just rumors. That's all. Rumors…

The question is why? Why him? Why did they choose him to transport it? They could have chosen anyone, even those of high class status. Instead, the Company chose _him_. Something about all this didn't feel right.

**2 minutes remaining…**

"Captain! Everything's all set! C'mon, let's launch already!" Fry demanded.

"Not yet! Still waiting for one more person. Why don't you get in the cryo-tube? I'll take care of the rest." Captain Mitchell giving her a hard look, his blue eye winks at her.

Fry gives him a salute, quirking a grin, "Aye-aye, Cap'n." He listens to the receding footsteps. He glance the data pad once more. Sweats pouring down his temple. There was unsettling feeling knotting in the bottom of his stomach. He felt a dire foreboding in the horizon. Shouldn't cause any trouble at all but, still…

**1 minute remaining…**

Still… the Company dumps the problem on him.

Damn them to hell…

He saw something appears from the sky, a large ship. A gust of wind blew past his face as another ship landed nearby. The ship was marked with a "C" logo, marking for the Company. The back door lands, men in uniforms guarded with pulse guns march in dual lines as they exit the ship. They wore bright uniforms, marking those of high-class society. Behind them follows a large, metal, rectangular box gliding in the air. The captain notes with surprise at the advanced technology. It floats three feet above the ground and it was large enough to contain a single adult person. A person emerged from the Company ship; this one has the markings of the highest authorities. He said nothing to the captain but with that sneering gaze of his told him everything. This one views him as common trash. Lowlife. Old. Worthless. Disposable. Expendable.

He hands the aging captain a new data pad, this one containing a single file of his new passenger. The other man had an intimidating atmosphere around him, still giving him a sneering gaze. "Be sure to handle it with care. Company has invested billions of credits looking after this one. It's our pride and joy." He gestures the other men back into the ship. As he turns his back, with his retreating footsteps, he call out to the captain, "Don't fuck it up, old man."

Suddenly, everything became crystal clear. He grimaces, he was given the Pandora box. A fuckin' Pandora box. He moves the floating case into the _Hunter Grazner_, scuffling it past Riddick's cryo-tube.

The criminal has a black blindfold to hide his eyes. A metal bit wedged in his mouth lends a perpetual grimace. A read-out on his cryo-locker admonishes "LOCK-OUT PROTOCOL IN EFFECT. ABSOLUTELY NO EARLY RELEASE." The blindfolded criminal inclines his head in captain's retreating footsteps.

The captain pauses in the dark, empty room. Moving the coffin case in the middle of the room, he steps back to look at the small monitor on the cryo-chamber. Pressing the buttons on the screen, the box suddenly drops to the floor.

_THACK!_

Mindlessly, he steps toward the consoles. He pilots the _Hunter Grazner_ off planet, setting it on automatic pilot in the shipping route. For a second, that one split second, he remembers the sudden addition in his ship, sitting alone in that dark room.

Wait… just wait a few minutes more. He was sure the Company wouldn't follow but it couldn't hurt to be careful. He double-check the screen to ensure no one is following. The captain heads back to the dark room where the box lies.

There was a small window on the surface of the metal cryo-tube, fogged up with ice. Musing, he captain rubs it clean from his sleeve, revealing a healthy, young person trapped within. He couldn't tell its gender for the frozen person was blindfolded, ball gag in its mouth, trapped in a black straitjacket, and chained up. The odd part was the straightjacket. That hasn't been around for over two hundred years. The more he looks closely, the more he realizes the person inside tilts its head toward him.

"What the hell…?"

The captain looks over the data pad, this time studying it more closely.

**CONFIDENTIAL – For Your Eyes Only**

**Name: [purged] **

**CODE name: RICO **

**Birthplace: Old Earth (updated)**

**Date: Early 21****st**** century**

**Last released: ****Late 21****st**** century**** (updated)**

**Identity/Class: Hybrid (Human subspecies, ?)**

**Abilities: [purged]**

**History: [purged]**

**CAUTION: DO NOT RELEASE! DANGEROUS! **

Mitchell raises a brow. Many of the data were purged. A hybrid? Interesting, but nothing new in this day and age. But the date was off, leading to more questions than answers.

He trails his eyes over to the red blinking light at the bottom left corner. He presses the red light, revealing another screen page. This time, it's a voice link. Someone went through trouble to record this and keep it hidden. Curious, he taps the link again.

**-****[Video recorder-Press play?]****-**

**-[… … …]-**

**-[Transmission failed. Try again?]-**

**-[Enter your name and code for the record]-**

**-Captain Tom Mitchell G8T983EJ8K-**

**- [Access Granted.]-**

**-[Static]-**

"**If something happens to me, then there's a good chance I'm dead. Whoever you are, you are the new caretaker. You are very unfortunate, caretaker. Boy, you have no idea how unfortunate you are. Reminds me of my own unfortunate position. But then, if you are now in charge of this possession then I'm the lucky person alive. Uh… dead. Fuck. Always having to watch this FUCKIN' BOX! THIS STUPID FUCKIN' COFFIN! DAY IN AND DAY OUT! I check on it several times a day but I swear… I swear I heard something movin' inside. But that's impossible, right? The deadweight hasn't been awake … or alive since what? 500 years? That's downright fucked up. News flash, there is no drop off. The Company fucked you over." **

**(updated)**

"**There's a reason I'm dead. I was so fuckin' damned curious about the mummy. Fuck, I had to tell someone. The guy in the coffin isn't no ordinary convict. I don't know about you, whether you believe me or not, but if you know anything of the Old Earth history then you can recall the Cleansing War. THIS deadweight was from the Cleansing War, the LAST survivor! That's right. THAT's why I'm dead now. I KNOW the truth! These fuckin' bastards thought they could get away with it. Whatever you do – DO NOT open the coffin! DO NOT go near the bastard! DESTROY IT by any means possible! I tried. God knows I tried. It cannot be killed." **

**(updated)**

"**I can hear them coming… they're coming for me. The Company finally put a hit on my head. I heard a rumor – a terrible rumor in the Company. They wanted to let 'it' out. They wanted a 'controlled experiment.' They found a sucker, the poor fucker. The fucker with a transport ship. Shit, how many are going to die? The case… the case. I hear them at my door. Fuck that, they're trying to break in. That's cute, that's real cute. Fuck, fuck, FUCK! The case is TIMED! The case is programmed to open, it will OPEN! WHATEVER YOU DO – DO NOT OPEN IT!" **

-[**Data** **purged**]-

His eyes grew wide with horror, "My god…!" He let the pad slip from his fingers, hearing a thudding sound resonating in his ears. The Cleansing War… he knew it far too well. It was a dangerous period. Casualties were numbered in millions. And the rumors were inconceivable but… now he is a caretaker of the impossible. He trails his fingers over the control panels of the thick cryo-tube. He finally notices the clock, ticking down. Bit of sand escapes the hourglass, running away from time. He couldn't go back to the planet, not with the Company watching from the planet borders. Damn them!

They had to be monitoring it somehow… from the distance. But that didn't matter now, he couldn't allow it to live. He couldn't risk another Cleansing War. There was no way he would let it live. Not for his sake and certainly not for the Company's sake. The captain grimaces. The Company can go to hell.

The next populated planet is months away. Their time will be up by then. Mitchell couldn't take that chance. Not by exposing it to the populated world. He knew exactly what it is, he need to kill it. The tales of the Cleansing War was formidable…

Before he knew it, the captain was back to his seat, piloting the ship. Fingers touching the control panel. He brings the coordinate of the ghost lane onto his visual screen. The universe is better off without… whatever the damn thing is. A warning screen came up, alerting the captain of a rogue comet coming in path less than a month away. The ship went briefly on autopilot and created an alternate route around the comet, providing safe route where the _Hunter Grazner_ is safely out of harm's way. The captain's eyes stare at the path for a good long while. With precision, his fingers hover over the buttons, hesitating. Then he remembers how the Company fucks him over.

Shaking out of his trance, his feature grew with determination, "Fuck it." He enters a new coordinate, toward a rogue comet. He shuts down the ship's shield, leaving _Hunter Grazner_ vulnerable and in the mercy of the deadly space.

The captain settles in his seat, rubbing his hands on the armchair. An eerie calmness clouds over his features. He put the ship in auto-pilot then he recline his seat, getting up. He heads over his personal cryo-tube. The Company was too deeply corrupted, already laying down its own seeds of destruction. And that thing in the other room… That was a product of their destruction. The product from the old days. Alive. Still alive. Tom Mitchell couldn't believe it but he saw it with his own eyes. The monitor of that box was proof enough. That soft beeping, pulses in timing of its heartbeat. He couldn't allow it to live. Even if it takes the lives on this ship. To justify his actions, he let the first thing that came to mind. _The need of many outweighs the need of a few. _

He signed his death sentence. Tom Mitchell had a month to live. He settles into his cryo-locker, turning on the cryo-sleep. Like a captain and all captains before him, he prefers to go down with his ship.


	3. Rebirth

**Chapter One**

**Rebirth**

_They say most of your brain shuts down in cryo-sleep. All but the primitive side, the animal side. No wonder I'm still awake…_

Blindfolded, doesn't mean he's blind. He spread his senses to his surroundings. He senses the light turbulence of the ship. The pipes creak above, revealing the rate of speed. How fast the ship is traveling. The area was a whole shade darker behind his blindfold than the time he enters the cryo-tube. The ship corridor is either dimmed or dark. The metal corridors on one end are lined up with cryo-lockers, except for his own 'special' cryo-tube. Set apart, isolated from the rest. How flattering…

_Transporting me with civilians. Sounded like 40, 40 plus._

An older man mutters a prayer in his home language nearby. He reeks with fear. Probably flight sick. His nose picks up the scent of herbs and dirt emitting from this man._ Heard an Arab voice, some hoodoo holy man. Probably on his way to New Mecca. But what route? What route?_

Bored, he moves on.

_Smelled a woman. Sweat, boots, tool belt, leather. Prospector type. Free settlers. And they only take the back roads._

_And here is my real problem. _

_Mr. Johns, the blue-eyed devil. Plannin' on taking me back to slam, only this time he picked a ghost lane. _It's no mystery the level of Johns' greed. A ghost lane means no mercs. No mercs means no splitting cash. Cash means more dope. Shame, he used to be great. And where that leaves me…? The slam, but which one? Which route?

_Scrtch…_

A sound. His ears perk up in slight alarm. The scratching sound came again. The sound came by like routine. The sound of nails against the metal and glass. The action isn't one of desperation. It sounds calm, almost as if he's testing the perimeter of his trapped area. _Driving me goddamn nuts with that noise…_

This one is a mystery. This one has a room all to himself, waiting to break free. There's no smell coming from this one. Either it's too far away to smell it or this one is trapped in a tightly contained box. Or a box within a box. _Interesting…_

Learn something new each day. Curiosity has been itching my animal side since the captain brought it on board. Had a feeling ol' Pop doesn't want his crew to know about this 'new friend' of his. There was no sound of scrapping on the floor when he delivers the package inside. Smells a whole lot like his own cryo-tube. Metallic, oxygen hissing though tubes, bits of ice. Judging from the thudding sound he heard on his first day, he came to a conclusion: Either the captain has a hidden strength of three men or the case was floating above ground.

_Interesting… now why would an old man drag a box in when there's a ship full of cryo-lockers?_ Tells me something or _someone_ inside that locker is of grave importance.

And the _smell_. That scent of the old cryo-chamber mingled with the new. An older scent of a cryo-tube is faded but present, almost if it resides inside a newer cryo-tube. A box within a box.

Some technology he brought there. Brings back memories of my days as a Company ranger. Hadn't seen technology like that since the Company. Didn't agree with their taste… or their system. Need a reminder to thank them for putting a hit on my head then dig a shiv through their sweet spot. Well, well, looks like the captain's in bed with my enemy. Didn't strike me as a guy who's corrupted. Then again, I've been wrong before.

The scratching came again. Been to listening that _all_ month. Would've driven any man insane. My animal side keeps grating my nerves each time it came. Had a hunch this guy was a whole lot like me. Wide awake, in touch with our primitive side – the animal side. The real question is: who's more dangerous? Who's the better killer?

The scratching went still, waiting. It's quiet, saved for the clanging of the pipes and the slight turbulence. The new guy's not the only one waiting.

_Long time between stops, long time for something to go wrong._

The rough turbulence kicks in, the floor and pipes clatters loudly. A loud warning alarm wails, screaming everywhere. Red light flashing the entire corridor. Readying itself for the end of the world. The sound went on for a while.

_Cap'n, Captain, where is he in this hellhole?_

Riddick heard a cryo-door slam opens, spitting out a person. The said person lands roughly the deck of the main cabin. His nose picks up feminine scent. A woman. The turbulence grew dangerously rough. The alarm continues wailing. He hears more cryo-lockers opening. Crew members rushing down the forward section. He notes some crew members are not getting up. _Sick, dead or otherwise, shouldn't someone take care of the ship? _

Despite the constant chaos, the noises, quakes. He heard the woman sighs, flooding with relief. She speaks over the intercom to one of the cryo-tube.

"Hear me? Cap'n?"

_Ah, finally. Someone found the captain. _

"Some kinda compromise to the hull… holding for now, but…_Goddamn_." She laughs, "I'm glad you're alive. Gotta pull your E-release… no, red handle, red handle."

_Hm, the captain should know his ship better than the back of his own hand. What's the story here? _

"Cap'n? Why aren't you pulling the red handle?! PULL THE _RED HANDLE_!"

_**Phfut-phfut-**__phfut-phfut__**!**__ Cling-chang! Bak! HIsssssss! _

The pipes overhead hiss gas in front of Riddick's cryo-locker.

Meteor particles? He barks laughter, his voice muted through the bit.

Well, hot _damn_. Dear ol' Cap'n trying to kill us all. When the hell did he shut off the ship's shields system?

He heard the woman fell on her arse. She reeks with fear. Scared. Horrified. Guess the captain's dead. Otherwise she wouldn't be sniffling like a scared child on the floor. His ears perk as another cyro-door blows open. A masculine scent. Someone lands on top of the woman. The guy sounded disoriented, frantic.

"Why did I fall on you?!"

Riddick snorts. It's amusing how humans can react under these circumstances.

"He's dead. Cap'n's _dead_!" She sounded worse for the wear. "Christ, I was looking _right_ at him when—"

The other crew member interrupts her, babbling in disbelief. "I mean, I mean, chrono shows we're 22 weeks out, so gravity wasn't supposed to kick in for another 19. I mean, I mean, I mean, why did I fall _at all_?"

The woman speaks up, a strain evidence in her voice, "Did _you hear me?!_ Captain's _dead_! Owens too."

They sound confused, disoriented. "Oh, no. No, no, no. Not Owens, not…. Wai', wai', wait. _I'm Owens._ Right?"

Ridiculous, share your nightmares for another time. Sure, their minds are bit sluggish; their minds haven't gathered the facts together. Or the fact that someone _isn't piloting the motherfuckin' SHIP! _

The woman mutters, half chuckling, "Cryo-sleep. Swear to God, it sloughs brain cells."

Riddick feels like hitting the back of his head against the wall. Sounds like they're not rushing the pilot seat anytime soon. Where's their _adrenaline_? Where's their _sense of survival_? My life is at the mercy of these… _humans_.

_God must truly hate me._

The turbulence shudders violently. The alarms shrieks its wailing. He hears the panicky voices of the crew members. The woman rushes to the other room, presumably the navigation bay where the pilot seats lies. _Finally!_ He heard the distance voices shouting shouting throughout the ship.

"…1550 millibars… _shit_, we're hemorrhaging air! Someth… swipe at us!"

A voice, Owens he recall, is closer but still far away, retort, "Just tell me we're still in the shipping lane! …show me…all those bright, _beautiful_, deep-space…!"

The ship rocking violently. The floor clatters. Riddick brace himself in his cyro-locker. He heard the elated growls howling over the chaos.

"What the fuck was _that?!"_

He feels a smirk spreading. So it's a race. Who would get free first? Who will be the hunter and the hunted? Who will kill the killer?

The ship spiral out of control, he can feel the heat rising from the floor. There can only be one reason behind this. The ship is entering the planet atmosphere. Rough ride ahead. With the shield generator down, the ship is defenseless against the planet entry. They'll be burn to crisp before they crash. Heh, these people never ceases to amaze me when no one thought of turning the _fuckin' thing ON!_

"…_Shit! OWENS! The shield! Turn on the fuckin' shield!_"

"_What?!_ … It _is_ on! It _should_ be on! The Captain-!"

"_Owens!_ This thing gonna _fucking_ toast us! Captain's dead and _you're_ the next commanding officer! You have the codes so_, help me God, _turn the _fu…shield ON!"_

"Shit…shit_…shitshitshit.._**shit!**! FRY!"

The scorching heat died down a little. The ship rattles, sending monstrous quakes. Crew members yelling in fright. Felt something torn away above, an airbrake. The glass shatters, pebbles of glass flying, cutting his cheek. Sensing the ship going in a nosedive, Riddick braces himself against one side of the cryo-chamber. He can feel the ship's weight getting lighter and lighter. The pilot must be purging the loads. Smart girl.

He hears the muttering of confusion, the civilians' primitive instinct starts kicking their brains gears awake during this hell ride, fear clouding their minds. Ears perks up as another cryo-door blast open, someone plummets to the floor. Riddick growls deep, his nose instantly recognizes the exactly who fell out. Blue-Eyed Devil, Mr. Johns.

_Just my luck. _

He heard Johns struggles to his feet. The cryo-sleep made the merc ill, nauseous, confused. Riddick felt the pressure grating on the ship; he can feel how fast the speed rate is. Altitudes dropping like an atom bomb. It's slowing down but still too fast for his liking. The scent from the broken windshield hits his nose – dirt, sand, and heat. He braces himself more securely against the side of the cryo-locker, preparing himself for a rough landing.

The hull is cracking open. The alarm wailing vanished. The ship hits the surface then came hell. Metal walls rip to shreds. Johns held onto the metal pillar like a lifeboat. The wind gust by, shrieking like a banshee. Peering through the holes of his blindfold, Riddick watches as forty cryo-chambers sucked out of the ship. The merc held to the pillar tightly as the rest of the body lift into air, engulf by the merciless wind. The rear end of the ship torn apart by a deadly force, sealing some forty souls to their fate.

Then the _Hunter Grazner_ came burrowing in. Dirt came piling like an avalanche. Lights loses its electricity, blackout.

Fate is a kind ally, a cutting torch tapping shattered window of his cryo-chamber. Riddick cocks his head, like a curious child. Watching the bright sparks aooear through the cracks of his blindfold. He raises his tied up hands through the gaping glass hold above his cryo-locker, his fingers brushes the cool surface of the cutting tool. Taking it, he uses the cutting torch on the jammed door. Suddenly, his cryo-locker opens.

Getting out of restraints is easy, saved for the bit, chains and cuffs. If there was more time, I would have used the cutting torch to rid the cuffs and chains but the survivors are starting to stir. Including Johns, but first…

Riddick sleuth steps over the rumble, to where Johns is buried underneath the debris. He crouches, moving his tied up hands over the merc, stealing the holster carrying a pulse gun. Through the holes of his blindfold, Riddick glances around for a hiding spot. _Away from the survivors. Away from Johns._

Lighting failing, sending sparks in its wake, Riddick notices a hole in the floor where the dirt avalanche is. The manhole leads to a lower deck. Power failure down there, complete darkness. _Perfect_.

He crouches slight, preparing his hind feet. He leaps inside the dark hole, vanishing all traces of the escape convict.

_Thud…!_

Riddick lands on his feet. And enters into his crouching position. Listening for any survivors ahead.

His ears perks up, a sound.

He still for a second, listening harder this time.

_Scrtch…scrtch-scrtch-scrtch…scrtch-scrtch…_

That sound again. That old familiar sound. _… Stubborn bastard… lucky bastard, having survive the crash._ Time to check it out.

With chains bound his feet, limiting his movement, Riddick wobbles in the dark corridor. Like a predator of the dark, he passes through the debris, carefully not making any noise.

_Scrtch…scrtch-scrtch—!_

The noise stops abruptly. Silence heavy on the ears.

Riddick backs into the wall, hands touching the rough edges of the damaged corridor. He waits for few seconds, sure that the other didn't hear him. He slowly moves his bound hands from the wall, lifting the blindfold off his features. His mercury eyes glisten in the dark as he looks around, seeing everything.

Mildly surprised how close he was to the source, he notices a door no more than a few feet away. The doorway is sending sparks, proving the severity of its damage. The escaped convict tiptoe over the rumble, allowing his inner animal to guide him carefully and silently over the debris.

Riddick went dead still, striding over as quickly and quietly, his back hunching against the wall. His fingers touch the edge of the doorway. Waiting for any sign of life within, he briefly rests his eyes, heightening his senses.

No sound, not even a breath. Nothing to indicate someone is alive. Something smell burnt. Burnt metal but not familiar copperish smell in the air. A sign of no blood. _Not injured_. No vibration. _Didn't move_. He stay by the doorway, waiting. Waiting to hear any sign of life. There is nothing.

The escapes convict lower his bound hands to grip the holster. Intending to lay a trap for Johns, he changed his mind. His fingers grip the gun handle, clicking the safety button off.

…_Click…_

Not his type of weapon but it'll do. He snakes his body around so he faces the door entrance. The dark cannot hide from him. His mercury eyes see everything. Certain that nothing, no one is hiding from him. He glances around the entire room; there was nothing except the fancy white cryo-chamber sitting in the center. And it was open.

_Shit._

Riddick is snaps his head, searching around. He chuckles once. _He was already free. The smartass thought he could lure me into his trap. Ghost me and it's one less problem to worry about, isn't that right? _He steps forward, his eyes narrows in suspicion.

_...tck!_

Riddick peers down. There is a data pad under his foot. He raises his brow, intrigued. He bends over to pick it up. With his bound hands, he held a pulse gun in one hand, pointing forward and a data pad in the other. Eyes trail over the details in the data pad for a brief second before he felt atmosphere shift in the room.

A large figure drops in front of him. Riddick drops the data pad, raising the gun in alarm.

The figure slowly rose to stand from its crouching position. The mysterious person is a fully built male, has his exact height and age, wearing a black sleeveless shirt, cargo pants, boots…and a pair of black goggles.

His mercury eyes rose in confusion, mercury pupils shaking, sweat forms on his temple. He was staring a mirror image of himself. His doppelganger tilts his head to the side, like a curious child. Riddick keeps staring as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

" ... What. The. _F__uck?!"_

_WHACK!_

The convict fell forward, seeing stars. He felt a splitting pain at the back of his head. He spat out the copperish taste in his mouth. Blood splatter on the floor. Weakly, he peers over his shoulder, wincing from the bright light which stings his eyes.

_Blue-Eyed Devil… _

Riddick watches as the merc launch another powerful strike.

…

… …

… … …

_Hello, darkness, my old friend …_


End file.
